


Bedtime

by holyfant



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, Massage, Multi, Post-Hogwarts, Threesome - F/M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 23:55:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5560825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holyfant/pseuds/holyfant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's working too hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedtime

**Author's Note:**

> For anon's request on tumblr. Unbeta'ed.

Harry stared moodily at the pile of paperwork on his desk; it returned the stare evenly. If he'd known beforehand how much parchment the head of the Auror Department had to read, approve, amend and sign he might have thought twice about taking the job. Sometimes he thought wistfully of his days out in the field, the physicality of the job, the adrenalin – Ron, covering him, grinning at him as he nonchalantly flicked deflective spells over his shoulder.

 

Harry sighed, closed his eyes, and rolled his shoulders. He hadn't thought he'd miss Ron so much on the job, considering that they also spent most of their time outside of work together. Hermione had warned him he would regret it, and now he felt stupid for not listening to her. If there was one thing he could rely on, it was Hermione being right.

 

Someone knocked on the door of his study: Hermione. Ron never bothered, and just came in.

 

“Yeah,” he called, swivelling his chair around.

 

She came in, her curls hanging damply over her shoulders from showering. At her throat she held together the flaps of the silk dressing gown Ron and he had got her for her thirtieth birthday. She always felt it was cold in Harry's study.

 

“We're going to bed. Are you coming?”

 

He groaned, beckoned her closer. “I'd love to,” he said, and slid his hands over her waist as soon as she was within reach. “But I have to get through this before tomorrow's meeting.”

 

She leaned against him, smelling sweetly of soap. “You know, as head of the department, you can postpone the meeting.”

 

He looked up at her, smiling. “Don't give me professional advice you'd never follow yourself.”

 

“Oh, I would if I had to,” she said lightly. “You've only been promoted for four weeks and you're already working too hard.”

 

“There's something I never thought I'd hear you say.”

 

“Well, I've got more selfish since reaching thirty. No meeting should steal us from each other.”

 

“Hm.” He pressed his face against her, squeezing her closer. She carded her fingers through his hair; he felt something loosening inside him, some of the tension of the past days bleeding out of his muscles. He was tired, so tired – and he realised that if he let himself feel it, he could easily fall asleep as he was, leaning against Hermione's soft, warm weight.

 

“You really have to come up,” she finally said. “Ron's got something planned.”

 

Harry lifted his head. “Uh-oh, what?”

 

“Oh, I couldn't say,” she said, but aimed down a bright grin at him.

 

His resolve, already stretched so thin, snapped. “Well, fuck the Defense Committee, then,” he said.

 

“I should hope not,” she said, and helped him up. “We've got a big bed, but that may be pushing it.”

 

*

 

“Who is this strange man in my bedroom?” Ron exclaimed when Harry came in, and stepped in front of Harry as if to block his entrance. He caught Harry's jaw in his hands and kissed him; a Ron kiss, matter-of-fact, clear in its intention. “Who're you?” he demanded when he pulled back.

 

Harry smiled. “Are you always this forward with strange men in your bedroom?”

 

“Of course,” Ron said, beginning to undo the buttons on Harry's shirt. “It's the only way of regularly getting some cock in this household.”

 

Harry mock-glared at him. Ron grinned, and slid a hand over the exposed skin of his chest.

 

Hermione came past, stood on tiptoe to give them a peck on the lips in turn, and dropped down on the bed. “Finally, a show,” she said, and stretched back luxuriously, undoing the silk dressing gown so it fell open, her wet hair fanning out over the pillow as she got comfortable.

 

Harry shifted a little. “Hey,” he said. “I don't want to disappoint, but I'm knackered.”

 

“I know, mate,” Ron said warmly, and flicked open the final button. “How about we give you a back rub with that Self-Heating Oil we got over Christmas, and then I'll suck your cock, if you want? You don't have to do anything.”

 

Harry kissed him, slow and purposeful, sliding his tongue against Ron's. Ron made a noise of approval, and tugged on Harry's belt, trying to get the buckle to come undone. Harry slid his lips over Ron's cheek, and breathed sensually into Ron's ear: “That sounds _awful_ ”, then laughed as Ron thumped his bicep in retaliation.

 

“He's not too tired to make terrible jokes, at least,” Ron said loudly, and Harry heard Hermione laughing.

 

Harry pulled back, smiling. “No, that'd be great, of course,” he said now. “Dunno what I've done to deserve it, but. I'm not complaining.”

 

“Yeah, you're a prat, really.” Ron finally got his belt undone and pulled it through the loops on Harry's trousers. “You're just lucky I enjoy sucking your cock so much.”

 

“What he's trying to say, Harry,” Hermione supplied helpfully, “is that we've really missed you.”

 

“I know,” he said. “I'm sorry. If I'd known what I was getting myself into –” He cut himself off. Whining about it wouldn't help.

 

Ron gave him a sympathetic look. “If you told Kingsley you wanted to get in the field again, don't you think he'd let you?”

 

Harry shrugged. “I don't think he'd appreciate having to reverse my appointment, and he'd have to find someone else to run the department. Hodges is already complaining about having to train me up.”

 

Ron frowned. “He's complaining about getting to train _you_?”

 

“Not to my face,” Harry said. “But I don't think he'd appreciate having to look for someone new, again.”

 

“That, and Harry's a really _good_ Head Auror,” Hermione said.

 

“'course he is, but he doesn't _like_ it,” Ron said, and added: “Take off your trousers, will you?”

 

Harry smiled, and did. “I'm sure I'll like it better once I settle in properly,” he said, trying not to think about how much less he'd enjoyed going to work since his promotion.

 

“Well, stop thinking about it, yeah?” Ron said, and steered him towards the bed. “Talking about work is not what I had in mind for tonight.”

 

“Ron,” Hermione scolded gently, as they both got into bed. “If Harry wants to talk about work, we should.”

 

“I don't, really.” Harry lay down with a groan of satisfaction and rolled onto his side. “I just wanna...” He closed his eyes.

 

“What was that?” Ron said, and slid a hand slowly up Harry's side, from hip to shoulder.

 

“I just wanna… let you do what you said,” Harry said without opening his eyes, and felt his blood heating a little at the thought.

 

“'s what I thought I'd heard,” Ron said, sounding satisfied. “'Mione, can you –? Yeah, it's over there. Thanks, love.” The mattress dipped a bit as Hermione moved around, and there was the sound of Ron and Hermione exchanging a kiss. Ron gently pushed at Harry's back. “Roll over, mate.”

 

Harry moved onto his stomach, feeling his body already melting into the mattress. Now that he'd allowed himself to feel it, his exhaustion was like a warm cloud descending, making his body feel blurry and vague.

 

The click of the lid on the oil, the wet sounds of Ron and Hermione rubbing it over their hands. Harry sighed, then let out a little sound of contentment at the first touch of their hands on him; the oil was charmed to always be exactly the perfect temperature for the person being massaged.

 

Ron straddled his thighs, his large hands running over the skin of Harry's back in broad strokes. Hermione moved around, and finally Harry felt her settle lower down on one side of him; she massaged her hands up and down the muscle of one of his calves. Harry breathed out. Ron's pleasant weight, the combined warmth of their touches; it filled him with a feeling of affection so deep it was like falling.

 

“Merlin,” Ron said, working a knot in Harry's shoulder. “You feel tense like a bag of bricks, mate.”

 

“I know,” Harry groaned. “Don't hold back, all right?”

 

“That's what I like to hear.” Ron pushed down hard on the tight knot of muscle, circling his palm over it. Harry moaned, gripping the duvet.

 

“Shit,” he muttered, as Ron's touches continued to dance between pain and pleasure, loosening up the tension in his back. Hermione's hands on his legs were lighter, more fleeting; she didn't quite have the same strength in her fingers Ron did, but the way she massaged his feet and calves was highly enjoyable.

 

He lost track of how long they worked on him; as Ron continued to work out the kinks in his muscles, the pain lessened, and he sank into a relaxation that deepened like darkness. His back was glowing with heat, both on his skin and deeper inside the muscle. Finally, he was aware of them stopping; Ron got off him, leaving Harry's thighs a little cold.

 

They snuggled up to him, Hermione on his one side, Ron on the other.

 

“Hey.” Ron kissed the side of his head. “Harry.”

 

“'m not asleep,” he managed.

 

“D'you still want –?”

 

“Mmm,” Harry said, then roused himself a little. “Myeah. I'll just, uh. Minute.”

 

He turned himself over with an effort; his front felt a bit cold, exposed to the air in the bedroom. Ron smiled down at him, and dropped his mouth on Harry's for a moment. Harry was barely awake enough to kiss him back before Ron pulled back and moved down, tugging at the waistband of his pants and sliding them down so Harry could kick them away. Harry's cock was only half-hard, but Ron nuzzled it, sucking gently on the tip, his hands fondling Harry's balls; Harry felt his blood quicken despite the woolly sleepiness he felt.

 

Hermione moved to his side, putting her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her and squeezed her closer. “Are you okay, Harry?” she asked quietly.

 

“Yeah,” Harry said, and angled his face down to kiss her. “Better than I've been in a while.” She smiled, kissed him again, and when Ron sucked Harry's cock between his lips, Hermione took the sound he made into her mouth.

 

“Mmm,” Harry said; the pleasure unspooling in his gut was still unhurried. Ron took his time, simply keeping the weight of Harry's cock on his tongue until it was completely erect, and then bobbing his head up and down slowly, sucking on the upstroke.

 

“Yeah,” Harry said, his hips canting towards Ron's mouth automatically, “that's… Mmmm. Yeah, 's good.” Hermione slid her hand over Harry's chest, her fingers catching on a nipple. She kissed his jaw.

 

“I love watching this,” she said into his ear. “Love watching one of you do this to the other.”

 

“I know,” Harry said, going a bit breathless, “me too,” and he looked down himself; it was always a dirty thrill to see his cock sliding in and out Ron or Hermione's mouths, and Ron had the habit of looking up as he was giving head, holding eye contact. Hot pleasure shivered through Harry's groin, and he moaned. Ron sucked him more insistently now, focusing his efforts on the tip while he held the rest of Harry's shaft in his oil-slicked hand.

 

“Ron,” Harry breathed; Hermione kissed his throat, her mouth warm and wet against his pulse.

 

“You love it, don't you, Harry?” she asked him, voice heavy with arousal. “You love getting your cock sucked.”

 

Harry nodded, digging his heels into the mattress. “Love it, yeah,” he said, “really do – ngh –”

 

“You're doing great, love,” Hermione told Ron, and Ron's hum of response made Harry gasp. He no longer felt blurry or vague; the muscles in his groin were tensing, tightening their focus; he was chasing his orgasm now, he could already feel it building –

 

Ron took him back into his mouth as far as he could go and sucked hard, and Harry said: “ _Fu-uck_ ”, and came without another sound, his mouth falling open, his hips stuttering up into Ron's mouth as pleasure pulsed through his gut.

 

Coming down from the high, he felt all of the tension leaving him, as if he'd left his body, as if his bones were liquid; he let Hermione kiss him, and then Ron, who tasted of his come.

 

“Thank you,” he breathed, and then, because that wasn't quite enough to express what he felt, “I love you.”

 

“Love you too, mate,” Ron said, and kissed Harry with his mouth smiling, folding his body to Harry's side.

 

“'Mione,” Harry said, squeezing her. “Love you.”

 

“I love you, Harry,” she said. “It's okay, go to sleep.”

 

“Yeah, I will,” he said vaguely; he felt her wordless _Scourgify_ , he felt someone pulling the covers up – and then Ron reaching across him to kiss Hermione, their bodies fitting to his, the warmth of their skin, the residual glow of heat from the oil. And then he simply did, without another thought, another worry: he fell asleep.


End file.
